


Softness

by afteriwake



Series: In So Few Words [51]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Molly Hooper, Character Study, Eventual Happy Ending, Experimental Style, F/F, Hair, Hair Kink, Happy Molly, Long Hair, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Molly Thinking, Molly-centric, Non-Consensual Haircuts, POV Molly Hooper, Past, Past Relationship(s), Sharing a Bed, Touching, past bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 18:45:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11789193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Janine tells Molly her hair is soft, and Molly reflects on what that phrase means to her specifically.





	Softness

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try something different with this prompt (" _One character playing with the other's hair_ " from [this list](http://penaltywaltz.tumblr.com/post/137274126169/nonsexual-acts-of-intimacy-select-from-the)), which was claimed by **a_dark_day** for Molly Appreciation Month way back in the day. Hopefully, you enjoy it! Written for day 7 of Molly Hooper Appreciation Week - Summer 2017.

“Your hair is so soft…”

Molly was used to people saying this to her. Her hair was normally worn up, in braids, in ponytails, in buns, in twists. She rather disliked having her hair down around her shoulders, brushed out so it shone. Too many memories of trying to feel the slightest bit pretty before girls at primary would rip her to shreds. Gum would find its way into her hair, and – _snip snip_ – bits of it would be gone.

_“Short hair is so cute!”_

_“Well, don’t you look spunky!”_

_“Short hair is all the rage.”_

She didn’t care. She wanted long, shiny, soft hair like all the other girls. For more than just her own looks, she supposed. Even at a young age she knew that there was a part of her that liked staring at girls a bit longer than necessary, found herself wondering if _their_ hair was soft and silky, thinking of running her fingers through it while her own was a short, butchered mess.

Girls were cruel. Girls were hard and girls were sharp and girls were not nice.

She spent so long thinking that girls were anything but soft that when she met one who liked her hair, years later when it was long and silky and the girls were women now and they didn’t make catty comments because Molly was _smart_ and _helpful_ and _kind_ and they could trade favours of fashion tips and clothes and all sorts of things to make her pretty for help with their studies, she thought nothing of it. She said thank you and went on her way. It wasn’t until later _six shots of tequila and a dark room and heavy breathing and soft touches, soft flesh, soft hair_ that it mattered.

The next morning, though, hard edges. Hard words. Harsh words.

She started wearing her hair up that day, tightly coiled braid around the crown of her head, not a hair out of place. Her hair was soft and _no one would touch it again_.

Sometimes she slipped. Sometimes her tresses fell from their bonds and she’d fix them, perhaps catch some attention, but no. Studies were more important, life could wait.

Then her father died and life _couldn’t_ wait. Life stopped and slapped her face. Life could slip away in a moment’s notice and now _she_ was hard and brittle and _lonely so lonely swallowed up in a black sea of school work and medical text and save me touch me stroke my hair and love me please._

For a time she lost herself. Didn’t care who was with her as she drank. Never enough to put her studies in jeopardy, just enough to numb the pain. Men pawed at her, touched her hair and she recoiled at first but then stopped. It was a touch. It was warmth.

But she deserved better, and she knew it. She wanted warmth _softness_ happiness.

Oh, how long it took to find happiness. It took a fiancee and a criminal mastermind and a high functioning sociopath and a wedding between an army doctor and an assassin and _years and years and years_ and a woman in a lilac dress with long dark hair.

It took a fake relationship and some spectacular revenge and a surprise encounter and an invitation to a wine bar and a really good bottle of red and a chaste goodbye kiss and _months and months and months_ and ups and downs and admissions and kisses and tears and strength and acceptance.

But as she lifted her head up, letting her hair fall down to tickled the part of Janine’s chest just above the sheet, the smile on her face wide and warm and unguarded as Janine’s fingers ran through her hair before reaching forward to bring her in for a kiss, she realized she had found her softness, and found the softness in someone else, and life was finally good.


End file.
